


Fairy Lights

by phipiohsum475



Series: Partners (A Teen!Johncroft) [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Kid!Lock, M/M, Underage Kissing, dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phipiohsum475/pseuds/phipiohsum475
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He quickly turned, pressing a soft kiss to Mycroft’s cheek, and the click told John the moment had been perfectly captured. He imagined he’d keep that photo for years to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairy Lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HumsHappily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/gifts).



> Mycroft is 16, John is 14, Sherlock is 7.  
> There is only a kiss :)

John followed Sherlock home again the following Tuesday. Sherlock set a glare on his face that wouldn’t melt, stomped ahead of John, refused to engage in small talk, and even declined to correct John when he started stating clearly incorrect facts to goad him on. When they got to the door, Sherlock turned and spoke for the first time.

“Mycwoft is home. See that you keep youh hands to youhself. You need to finish this pwoject, not be seduced by my intowe- intowwuh-“ Sherlock’s face grew further enraged by his inability to say the word to his satisfaction, “appawing bwother.”

John bit his lip until the urge to laugh subsided. “I promise, Sherlock. I won’t kiss your brother this time.” Then he smirked, unable to resist, “I’ll wait for our date to do that again.”

Sherlock scowled, “You awe both wevolting.”

He dramatically opened the door, and hollered throughout the house, “Mycwoft! I’ve bwoght John home. NO KISSING!”

John couldn’t hold back; he busted out laughing, and Sherlock dropped his heavy book bag on John’s foot in retaliation.

“Ow! You little punk!” John half laughed, “I already told you, I’m here to work on the project!” John toed off his trainers and rubbed his big toe. He limped after Sherlock up the stairs, to the boy’s messy room.

-o-

John was writing Sherlock’s descriptions in their report; it was decided since he had the better handwriting of the two of them. A small knock at the door interrupted them.

“Go AWAY,” Sherlock’s high pitched voice hollered.

The door opened anyways. “You are being quite childish, Sherlock,” Mycroft scolded, and John laughed. Mycroft looked at him, brows furrowed in question.

“What?” John asked, “He IS a child. I mean, sure, he’s a genius and all, but he’s seven. Give him a break.”

Sherlock looked at John, sniffled, then beamed at Mycroft, “See, he doesn’t want you heah either.”

John protested, “I didn’t say that!”

“Sherlock, I’m simply here to ask a question. I’ll leave you be momentarily.” Mycroft turned to John, and smiled, his eyes widening with genuine pleasure. “John, do you own a suit?”

John blanched; he knew the Holmes were posh, but a suit? For a date? What was Mycroft expecting? John imagined dinner and a film; but his hand clenched slightly and as he went to answer, Mycroft cut him off.

“John, no need to be anxious. I have a formal dance to attend Friday evening, as a member of the university’s social committee. If you are amenable, I’d like you to accompany me. If you haven’t a suit, I will rent on for you. It is unreasonable for me to expect you have one, after all.”

John’s eyes grew wide. A dance? Mycroft was asking him to a dance? He didn’t know how to dance. And a uni dance?

Mycroft came towards him, and placed a hand on his cheek, softly rubbing his thumb over John’s jaw, “Do not be concerned, John. I won’t take you anywhere you might feel uncomfortable. Dancing is not a requisite. If we spend the evening enjoying each other’s company, the evening will be a success.”

John blushed and looked at his feet, before looking back to Mycroft between his eyelashes. “Okay. As long as you stay with me, I think I’d like that. But I don’t have a suit.”

“You’ll be here tomorrow, to finish the report, yes? I’ll have our tailor measure you then. Show up at 1800 on Friday, and he’ll help you dress. It’s the least I can do for springing the dance on your at the last moment.”

John didn’t know how to respond, so he muttered “Sounds good then, thank you.”

“See, Sherlock, was that so terrible?” Mycroft smirked at Sherlock.

“Get out.” Sherlock demanded petulantly, and threw a pencil at him. Mycroft rolled his eyes, winked at John, and turned, keeping Sherlock’s door open as he left.

-o-

John had to admit, as the tailor put the suit on him, that he looked quite striking. His suit was a standard black, with a silver waistcoat and maroon tie. No wonder his mother was adamant that Mrs. Holmes take pictures. She was disappointed Mycroft wouldn’t be around to pick him up, but she’d relented so long as John took her camera with him.

Typically, his mum would have insisted on meeting his date, but his father had taught Mycroft a few years prior in British and World history, and assured his mum that Mycroft was very mature and respectable young man. John neglected to admit just how hot he found Mycroft, too.

When he left the tailor in the manor, he walked down the stairs to see Mycroft. His breath stuttered, as his date looked towards him. Mycroft sported a similar black suit, but his waistcoat was the maroon shade of John’s tie, and his tie was the silver of John’s waistcoat. They complimented perfectly. An involuntary ‘Wow’ escaped his lips, and to his surprise, Mycroft’s pale skin reddened, and he looked away.

Mrs. Holmes smiled at John and agreed, “Isn’t he just so handsome? You both are simply adorable.” Mrs. Holmes clasped her hands together, “Time for pictures!”

“Mother, we will get a picture at the event. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

Mrs. Holmes laughed, “It’s not the same, Myc.”

“Mycroft, if you please,” he insisted, a growl on his face.

“Actually,” John spoke up, “My mum wants pictures too.” He turned to Mycroft, “Let’s just get it over with.” Though he wouldn’t admit it, he wanted the photographic proof just as badly, that this amazing, stunning, brilliant man dated him, even if it was just this one night.

They stood in front of the fireplace together, arms wrapped around the other’s waist, and smiled into the flashing cameras. Mycroft’s mouth barely moved as he admitted, “You look absolutely fetching, John.”

John blushed and felt emboldened. He slipped his hand down to Mycroft’s arse, offering a quick squeeze.

“Oh, you tease,” Mycroft murmured under his breath, cheeks pink, “I may just have to kiss you again for your impertinence.”

“Is that supposed to be a deterrent?” John joked, the smile on his face held firm for the photos.

“Not at all.” Mycroft flirted back, and John couldn’t take it much longer. He quickly turned, pressing a soft kiss to Mycroft’s cheek, and the click told John the moment had been perfectly captured. He imagined he’d keep that photo for years to come.

-o-

The ball was, well, just as Mycroft had warned. No one paid them too much attention, the crowd of uni students had been drinking, dancing loosely without focus or pattern. They gyrated to the beat of the music from the mediocre band, and John and Mycroft mingled on the edges of the crowd.

“Do you need to, I don’t know, socialize?” John asked, knowing that Mycroft’s obligations may necessitate such behaviors. “Will they care that you’re on a date with me?”

Mycroft looked confused, but John knew it was an act. Mycroft inquired, “Why would they care?”

“I’m fourteen and male.” John deadpanned.

“John, it’s uni. You being male is of no consequence. Your age, well, I’m just sixteen myself; I can’t imagine anyone might care.”

“Still, you’re part of that... whatever committee. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Nonsense. If you don’t mind, I’d like to dance with you.”

John’s cheeks grew read and he scuffed his feet, “I don’t know how.”

“That’s hardly a problem,” Mycroft drifted an arm around his waist, pressing them closely together. “Just drift to the beat.”

Mycroft led his hands drift to John’s hips, pulling them tightly together. Mycroft let his hips sway, and directed John’s to do the same. They slowly rocked against each other in a gentle rhythm, and John rested his head on the taller boy’s shoulder. The band played leisurely, and John’s pulse raced with the excitement of touching Mycroft, feeling his body pressed against John’s. His breathing was fast and his hand felt damp and clammy, and he swallowed hard when Mycroft pressed a gentle kiss into his hairline.

The song ended, and Mycroft turned to a pat on his shoulder. An older girl, probably one of Mycroft’s classmates, gave a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Myc, but…,” she looked away, clearly uncomfortable, and Mycroft sported a knowing look and a frightful glaze.

“Who?” he demanded.

“The building manager. Paul McGuiness.”

“Fine,” Mycroft held his head high, and looked tenderly at John. “Would you accompany me, my dear?”

John bit his lip; he knew they’d get in trouble. He was too young, too male, too poor, too unsophisticated for Mycroft. He nodded, and turned away, walking off on his own.

Mycroft caught up to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “John, you are wonderful. I enjoy your company, your humor, your tolerance of my… less desirable habits.”

He stopped, and swiveled John, sliding long fingers into John’s shaggy blond hair, and pulling him close, “Don’t expect me to give you up that easily.” With a brisk look into his eyes, Mycroft confirmed his own suspicions, and dipped down to capture John’s rough, wind burned lips with his own soft ones.

Mycroft held John up as the younger boy’s knees buckled, and Mycroft smiled into John’s mouth. He kissed gently, once or twice more, then broke apart. “I have an idea,” Mycroft’s eyes shone bright, and he offered his hand for John to take.

John followed Mycroft to the coat check, and then out onto the chilly city street. Mycroft never let go of his hand, their intertwined fingers sending shivers up John’s arm and making his belly flop like a fish out of water.

They cross the footbridge into a grassy park. The hilly knoll was well lit and directly across the river, where the music drifted gently, like whispers over the soft rapids of the flowing water. Fairy lights were strung from lamppost to lamppost; a sign suggested an upcoming festival was to thank for the decorations.

Mycroft stopped alongside the river bank, where the dying grass met the spongy sand. Under the lights, Mycroft’s sharp features stood out, and John stared into his eyes, a half smiled smeared permanently across his face, mesmerized by the lights dancing off the curl cascading down Mycroft’s forehead. He blushed; how was it possible he’d been alluring to this creature, this handsome, brilliant, enchanting man? John went up on his toes to brush their lips together again. He knew it couldn’t possibly be long before Mycroft saw the folly of his ways, and told John to bugger off with the other kids. He was no good for a man like Mycroft, but he’d take advantage of every moment they had together.

Mycroft startled at John’s touch; but immediately gave into it. He held John tight to his chest, one hand at the small of his waist, tasting every moment of their evening together. John was marvelous, and he’d drink in each moment of John’s attentions. He knew it was simply a matter of time before his coldness, aloofness, genius or some other damnable trait turned John off, and he was left alone. He knew caring wasn’t an advantage, but he’d take this disadvantage for as long as he could.

They danced, to the hint of music, under the moonlight, for hours.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find more me on [Tumblr](http://phipiohsum475.tumblr.com/).  
> You can find more Johncroft at [MycroftandJohn.tumblr.com](http://mycroftandjohn.tumblr.com/).


End file.
